


untitled

by ghostrunner



Category: Lewis (TV), Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrunner/pseuds/ghostrunner
Summary: Hathaway: They approached me at Cambridge.Lewis: MI-5 did? Get away.Hathaway: Nowadays they advertise. Then you had to be discretely talent spotted.





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isagel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagel/gifts).



> untitled comment fic from 2012

John Hamish is a skillful but cautious chess player. 

Hathaway brings his queen out too soon, mostly to see what Hamish will do. 

"I'm not terribly interested in politics, to be honest," he says. 

Hamish takes a pack of Benson & Hedges 100s out of his inner jacket pocket and offers him one, lights it with a match. He doesn't take one for himself. 

"What a surprise," he says, "from a philosophy student. Too smart to engage in politics." He moves a knight, captures a pawn. Not the most obvious move, but not a bold one. It's a test. 

Hathaway smiles around the cigarette. 

"You will be punished, then," Hamish continues, "to be governed by idiots."

"Plato," Hathaway says. It comes out in a plume of smoke. He moves his one remaining rook, gives Hamish the choice between losing the offending knight, or a bishop. 

"The problem with philosophy or theology, is that they are often ill-suited tools for the direct and immediate alleviation of suffering." Hamish taps his fingers lightly against the edge of the board, his eyes on Hathaway's face. 

The air is chill, the sun bright and heatless. A bird sings in a tree branch, faintly.

Hathaway squints at the adjacent jogging path. 

"You think I want to alleviate suffering?"

Hamish picks up his knight. "Yes, James, I do." He sets the knight down. "Mate in three."

Hathaway smokes thoughtfully, considering the board, and his opponent. He takes the knight, sacrifices his rook. 

"And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free."

"John, 8:32." Hamish brings his queen out. "Your point?"

"Your name isn't John Hamish. And you don't smoke."

Hamish smiles, a little unpleasantly. It's an 'I was right' smile. An 'I'm an excellent judge of talent' smile. 

"And do you think that because I lied to you about my name and my personal habits that I am a tool of oppression, rather than freedom?" He moves his bishop, takes Hathaway's knight.

"I'm sure I don't know you well enough to say," Hathaway says politely. Dry and breathless because his lungs are full of smoke. 

Hamish laughs. 

"It's not about oppression and freedom, James. It's about danger and protection. And fear." He stands and Hathaway stands with him. Hamish moves his queen, takes Hathaway's. "Mate in two," he says, and he offers Hathaway his hand. 

"See you again, James," he says. 

Hathaway sits back on the bench, puts his forefinger on top of his king and wobbles it back and forth. He moves his last knight instead. 

"Check," he says to no one in particular. 

He stubs his cigarette out on the edge of the table, and he listens to the birds.

\--

__


End file.
